SaintDomingue
by AhiFlame
Summary: A prequel to all of the movies, this short story explores the happenings between Jack and Angelica in Saint-Domingue, hinted at in 'On Stranger Tides'.
1. Chapter 1

[A/N: Long time no see any PotC stuff from me, eh? After watching OST more times than I'd care to admit in theaters, I had a goal of finishing this lil' piece before the DVD release date. Last night was a crazy push to get it done, and done it now is, even if it's getting posted a little later than I'd intended (hey, it allows for more editing time!) And yes, any playing around with actual historical events/timelines and/or languages is intended and recognized-goodness knows Ted and Terry do plenty of that with the movies. :P At any rate, I hope you are able to read and enjoy. Cheers.]

With a satisfied smirk Jack leaned back in his chair. He occupied a dark corner of the tavern where he could watch the goings-on and remain unobserved by all but the most astute clientele. Given the lateness of the hour and the rate at which alcoholic beverages were dispensed he felt confident that no one would take notice of him. Not that he had any cause for concern; he could recall no recent slights against anyone that required him to be on guard.

A crash rose from across the room followed by thunderous hysterics. Jack looked composedly in the direction of the disturbance. A man, drunk off his feet, managed to stand with the aide of two of his fellows. A portly whore cackled unattractively and followed the trio upstairs. Jack took another swig of rum and grinned. Saint-Domingue may have a very different flavor from Tortuga but clearly it sported the same heart. He brought the tankard to his lips once more, only to find it empty.

Heaving a sigh born of laziness instead of irritation, Jack stood in a deceptively smooth motion. Once on his feet he swayed in place for a moment before snatching the tankard and swaggering toward the bar. Along the way he dodged numerous patrons varying in condition from slightly intoxicated to comatose, carelessly discarded bottles, spilt liquids, a mishmash of unidentifiable foods, and a brawl. Voices were raised in slurred conversations and often he caught snippets of lewd suggestions, ill-advised marriage proposals, and foul curses in more languages than he cared to count. Somewhere in the establishment, or just outside of it, a pair of novice fiddlers strummed discordantly on their instruments.

Jack smiled to himself. _Just like Tortuga,_ he thought fondly. A tug of nostalgia pulled at his heart. Though he was still in the Caribbean, being alone in an unfamiliar port and devoid of his beloved _Pearl_ brought him near to discomfort. He shrugged inwardly to dispell the unwanted sensation and approached the counter. All would be well, he reminded himself, once he caught up to that mutinous, scurvy-eyed, iniquitous rotter and reclaimed what was rightfully his. Beneath his amiable countenance his blood boiled at the very thought of Barbossa and what that wretch had done.

"Oy, un más, ay?" Jack drawled, slapping the tankard down on the counter. He gave the barmaid, a homely girl in her late teens sporting an inconceivable amount of freckles, a charming golden smile and elicited a blush and flustered giggle from her. She took the cup and turned to fill it from one of the many barrels stored behind the bar. As she returned the beverage, hand shaking with nervous energy, Jack gave her another smile. "Muchas grazie," he purred, sliding a coin across the countertop.

She nodded without meeting his gaze, pushed a lock of hair behind her ear, and turned away to buff the counter. While she was thus distracted Jack snuck the coin back and pocketed it. Turning his back, he took a swig of his drink.

A second later he spit out his mouthful. A voice, horribly familiar though he had not heard it in years, sounded from the tavern entrance. Jack stole behind one of the bulky support posts, clutching the handle of his mug with white knuckles. Cautiously, he peered around the side of the beam, his kohl-rimmed eyes wide in distress.

It was her.

"Oh bugger," Jack muttered under his breath as he pulled back behind the safety of the beam. Chewing on his lower lip, he darted another glance around the column, to be sure his eyes were not playing tricks on him. She had drawn nearer. He pulled back and drained the stein. His heart was racing furiously enough that his hand jittered in time with his pulse.

Escape through the front entrance was hopeless as he could not sneak past without her seeing him. That left retreating to his room and waiting her out or leaving by the rear door and finding alternate arrangements. Both alternatives were accessed by the back hall of the building. Jack decided that hiding out in his room would be the safer course. Taking a fortifying breath, he dropped to hands and knees and began crawling toward the stair, using tables, chairs, and miscellaneous decorations for cover.

The irresistible clink of coins drew Jack up short. He craned his neck to look at the counter. She was handing a pouch to the proprietor, who in turn counted the contents and marked the guest's name in the ledger. "Rooms are that way, up the stairs," the owner instructed with a heavy accent, waving toward the back of the establishment. Jack scuttled under the nearest table and peeked out from between the legs of the chairs. "Yours is at the end of the hall. When your companion arrives I will show him up."

"Gracias," she said as she accepted the room key. Her voice also sported a strong Spanish accent. Jack watched tensely as she passed and ascended the stairs. He waited several long moments, unable to discern if she was locked safely in her room.

"¿Señor?" the barmaid asked hesitantly, bending over to look at him beneath the table. "¿Estas bien?"

Jack managed a golden grin, though he was distinctly pale. "Aye."

She questioned him again in Spanish. Jack stared at her blankly. She gestured to indicate he should come out. He shook his head. "It's quite comfortable under here," he whispered unconvincingly. He cleared his throat in an attempt to strengthen his voice. "Did that lass make it to 'er room yet?" The barmaid shrugged, maintaining her upside-down posture. It was unclear whether or not she had understood the question. Her face was flushed, making the freckles disappear. "I'm quite all right 'ere then, thank ye,"

She spoke to him again and Jack struggled to separate the words. He always struggled with the swift speech of the Spanish; all the more so since he had never bothered to learn much of the language. "Eh?" She repeated herself more slowly, this time accompanying the speech with a forceful gesture at the stairs. Jack managed to pick out "hour" and "drink". At least he thought he had.

"Make it a bottle." Reluctantly, Jack crawled out of his hiding place. He waited impatiently as the barmaid filled his order. Every sound made him jump. He flipped the girl a coin and took the bottle, fairly running up the stairs.

Jack ghosted down the hall and ducked into his room. He swung the door shut, hastily bolted it, and then leaned his back against it with a sigh.

A light flared across the room. _She_ sat on the edge of the bed, holding a lit candle. Jack's eyes went wide and the bottle slipped from his suddenly slack grip. Jack recovered slowly, offering her an awkward grin. "'ello Angelica," he managed in a strained voice.

"Hello Jack," she returned in an icy cold tone.

Her accent was still as strong as he remembered, her hair as dark, skin as delectably smooth…he jerked his mind back to the present. Stooping to retrieve the bottle, which had mercifully not shattered, he tried to feign indifference. "How did you find me?"

"I followed news of the _Pearl. _Everyone knows that wherever she goes you are soon to follow. It was just a matter of checking the ledgers at all the lodging houses I happened across. You really should diversify your list of aliases, _Mister Smith,_" she purred dangerously, playing with the corner of the upturned sheet.

Jack's lip twitched in discomfiture. His mind was racing, looking for a way to get out of the situation alive and intact. His eyes darted from side to side searchingly.

Retreating back into the hall was almost certainly a lost cause; he was fairly confident in her ability to shoot, knife, or…or otherwise detain him before he made his escape. At any rate the ensuing flight down the stairs would leave his back exposed far too long. The window was a viable alternative. He had chosen this room after noting the habit of a driver to leave his hay-wagon beneath the window for hours while he indulged in the various wares the town had to offer. Of course with his present run of luck he would jump only to find the wagon absent…

His mind was yanked back to the predicament at hand as she rose and started toward him with that unnerving catlike gait that he found so fascinating. It took a great deal of mental energy to rein in his errant thoughts and address the situation. He held out his hands to dissuade her but she ignored him and continued to approach. "What do you want?"

Angelica chuckled. Her voice was low, gentle, but mirthless. She was within a foot of him now. "You ask too many questions Jack." She reached for him, locked her hands behind his neck, and rested her forearms on his shoulders. She smelled of lavender and the sea breeze. Jack conceded her point with a small shrug and uncertain grin. "It's been a long time, Jack. I was beginning to think our paths would never cross again."

"Wouldn't that have been a tragedy?"

"No."

Jack put his hands on her hips and applied pressure. She readily gave to his suggestion and backed away from the door, though she kept her arms around his neck. "Dearest Angelica, you're not still upset about Martinique, are you?"

"Are you referring to the woman or the location?"

Jack flinched but recovered quickly. "Either or," he said with a slight dismissive shake of his head. He watched her face carefully for any sudden change of expression; he had been the victim of her ever-changing temper once before and did not care to repeat the experience. "In any case I have an exquisite explanation."

"I'm sure you do," she replied evenly. Too evenly, he thought.

Jack's eyes narrowed. "Whatever it is you're after you can count me out. I have no time to waste on wild goose chases or cons, no matter how lucrative."

She took a half-step nearer to him and their bodies pressed together. She lowered one hand and toyed with the strand of beads tied in his hair. "I know how much it hurt you to lose her, Jack," she whispered sincerely, "and I know you will not rest until you have the _Pearl_ again. I, too, am questing for something."

Despite the logical part of his mind screaming for him to resist her charms, Jack was finding himself drawn in. He lowered his head ever so slightly to brush her cheek with his lips. "And what is that, love?" he whispered against her skin.

She grabbed a handful of his hair and pulled his lips to hers. They embraced for a long moment. The bottle of rum clunked to the floor, forgotten, as Jack wrapped his arms around her. She pulled back for a breath and Jack caught her mouth quickly, kissing her hungrily. He pushed her toward the bed and she went willingly.

As the backs of her knees struck the bed's edge they toppled onto the mattress. Angelica took a firm hold on his coat and rolled him onto his back, never breaking contact for more than a breath. Jack's hands traveled up and down her sides from hip to breast and back. With one hand she mussed his hair, sending the various trinkets clinking and jangling, and with the other she fumbled blindly at his belt. Jack groaned pleasurably and opened his eyes to mere slits.

As abruptly as she had initiated the action she drew back. Jack's eyes shot wide open. He raised his arms defensively a moment too late. The butt of the pistol cracked across his face with punishing force.

Jack inhaled deeply as he began to wake. A small smile played across his lips at the visions flitting through the shadows of semi-consciousness. The motion amplified the ache that had been at the edge of his awareness. His brow furrowed and the grin dropped from his face.

The scene that greeted him when he opened his eyes was perfectly familiar. The candle still illuminated the room from the floor. Jack sat up with a start and regretted it as pain flared in his head. He pressed his palm to his jaw where the pain was most intense. The skin was tender and swollen.

Grumbling under his breath, Jack looked about the room. Angelica was nowhere to be seen. His features settled into a contemplative scowl. He took a brief inventory of his effects: cutlass and hat were in their proper places; the pistol, with its single shot unspent, lay beside him on the bed; his coin-pouch was absent as he had expected; the compass…was missing.

Jack looked down and fumbled at his waist, searching frantically for the absent item. He let out a shaky, disbelieving breath as the realization sank in that his only tie to the _Pearl_ was gone. A knot formed in the pit of his stomach and he felt suddenly sick.

For several moments he sat numbly on the bed's edge, staring vacantly at the far wall as thoughts spun chaotically through his mind. His breaths were shallow and his body trembled, afflicted by the emotional turmoil caused by losing the enchanted compass. He swallowed dryly, his brows coming together as he wracked his brain for a course of action.

A sideways glance out the window reminded him of the time. Dashing out into an unfamiliar town in the dead of night would almost certainly prove fruitless. Better to wait until morning and conduct a thorough search by daylight.

He ran a hand down his face, feeling exhausted and defeated. Jack looked about the room once more and this time his gaze lighted on the discarded bottle of rum. Again the sturdy glass had resisted the destructive forces applied to it. Licking his lips, Jack retrieved it. He pulled the cork with his teeth, winced as his jaw protested, spit it out, and took a satisfyingly deep drink.

The pleasant burn of the alcohol cleared the dregs of depression from his mind. He allowed a characteristic smirk to slide across his face and took another gulp. Sauntering across to the window, he tapped a finger languidly on the bottle and listened to the rhythmic _clink_ of his ring against the glass. He paused at the aperture, looking out into the night. The moon shone sickly pale above, a mere sliver of light against the star-pricked sky. He narrowed his eyes with a sense of grim certainty. He _would_ retrieve the compass and, eventually, his beloved _Pearl_, no matter the cost. There was no question of that.

Jack lay awake for the remainder of the night. Occasionally he would close his eyes to rest them but his thoughts were never quiet. Scenario after scenario passed through his mind; he played each one out to its conclusion, searching for a satisfactory end. More often than not, he came up empty.

No doubt Angelica was still in Saint-Domingue. She had planned her theft poorly, for no conveyance could be contrived, no trap could be hired in the middle of the night; inns would not let rooms when their proprietors were abed, and no ships or boats dared cross the dangerous reefs rimming the harbor without the aid of daylight. It was possible that she had a means of transportation all her own but Jack very much doubted it for she was a slipshod sailor, unskilled in navigation, and even if she had somehow acquired those talents, the reefs would tear out the bottom of her boat. High tide would not come until morning. Alternately, retreat into the interior of the island was akin to suicide, especially for a lone woman, no matter how dangerous she, herself, was.

Logically, then, his first action come morning would be to search for her in the locality. He felt confident that he could exclude this particular inn, as even she would not have the audacity to remain so close to him after such a blatant theft.

Jack heaved a sigh.

The surrounding buildings were the likeliest places to hide. He rolled onto his side and made a mental listing: there was the Grey Horse Pub, the mill, half a dozen private homes, a few public inns, the dockyards, the livery stables, the—

His eyes shot open. The stables. Of course. That would be his choice of hiding places were he in Angelica's position.

Jack looked to the window. It was still dark. Clouds flitted across the moon, smothering the silvery light. He doused the candle and tensely waited for the clouds to overshadow the moon. As soon as the light died he deftly slipped through the window and dropped onto the hay wagon below.

His landing roused a choking puff of dust and he shook his head, coughing. The sweet scent of alfalfa floated around him as he floundered his way out of the hay and dropped to the street. Without pausing to brush the chaff from his hair and person he stalked down the lane, heading unfalteringly toward the stables.

Overhead the clouds passed, letting moonlight drench the land once more.

Jack circled the stable, searching for a subtle entrance. As he rounded the short end, he stopped and eyed a rope that dangled from the loft. Grinning with self-satisfaction he grabbed hold of the rope and gave it a careless tug. It held securely. He gripped it with both hands and began hauling himself up toward the loft.

As he neared the zenith the rope suddenly played out several inches. Startled, Jack looked sharply upward. The silvery moonlight revealed that the rope on which he was suspended was actually attached to a pulley and pinned precariously between the wheel and tackle-block. His weight, though insignificant enough at first, combined with the tugs of his ascent, was slowly wrenching the line from its locked position.

Jack eyed the contraption as he dangled precariously. As if in slow motion, the rope pulled further through the tackle. Jack's eyes went wide and he shook his head shortly as if to discourage the inanimate object. He was dropped another foot before the rope caught again, halting him with a violent jerk. Jack choked on a scream.

He hovered another second before acting. Hand over hand he scrambled up the rope, pulling as quickly as he could and trying to ignore the rope meting out. He was within inches of the loft before he ran out of cable. Desperately he jumped for the threshold and managed a lucky, though weak, grip. The rope hissed through the air and landed with a dull _thud_ below. Jack looked down with a gulp. Straining, he fought to gain purchase and pull himself up into the loft. His boots scraped ineffectively against the wooden panels of the barn. Inside, a horse whinnied.

Jack bit his lip and tried once more to lift himself. His left foot slipped and his fingers slid from the edge. With a startled shout he plummeted to the hard-packed earth. He hit the ground hard and let out a string of curses that started as a loud explicative and dwindled to a grumble as he recovered his wits. Rubbing his rear, he haltingly stood and glared up at the loft, expecting to see Angelica peering down at him with a smug grin.

Instead he saw the stable boy leaning out from the loft. Clouds had drifted over the moon once more, an unexpected boon for which Jack was grateful. Sorely, he limped away to the shelter of deeper shadows near the building's foundation. Already the first hints of dawn were graying the horizon.

The next morning Jack hobbled down the stairs, grumbling under his breath with each hitched step. His loud descent drew the attention of the proprietor who stood behind the bar, readying for the day's business. The man watched Jack's approach with unconcealed curiosity. "Are you injured Mister Smith?"

Jack started and looked up. In his distraction he missed a step and fumbled to regain his balance. He eyed the other man warily for a moment before continuing down the stairs. "No, no, not at all mate," he said gruffly. He waved his right hand in the air. As he progressed he focused more on concealing his limp and reestablishing his nonchalant façade. "Just, eh, had a wild night if you get my meaning."

The proprietor raised his eyebrows. "Of course." He tipped his head to one side as Jack came closer and looked at him in confusion. "Were you in the stables?"

Jack froze and stared at the man like a trapped animal. His eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Why would you think that?"

The man gestured with his hand, the expression on his face making it clear that the answer should be obvious. Jack continued to stare at him, dumbly, and shrugged. "There is hay in your hair," the proprietor explained, speaking as if he were addressing someone of deficient wit.

Jack pawed at his dreadlocks. His hands came back clutching a few pieces of straw. "So there is." He tossed the fodder on the ground with a dismissive flick of his wrist. The proprietor watched it fall with a disapproving frown. "Might I see that fancy lil' ledger-book of yours? I'm wondering if a friend of mine has taken to their 'eels yet." Jack leaned toward the man, invading his personal space. Conspiratorially he added, "the lout owes me money. Money for me rent, in fact."

The other leaned away from Jack, instinctively reestablishing the social distance appropriate for strangers. "Of course." He reached under the bar and pulled out the worn leather volume. He plopped the book down before Jack and resumed his preparations for the day.

Jack opened the ledger-book and flipped to the last marked page. He leaned near to it, squinting. His finger drifted down the ruddy paper, hesitating briefly at Angelica's name—her first name only, but shockingly her real name—before continuing on to the final entry. He tapped the book. The entry, scrawled in a wiggly hand that suggested the writer was either not well versed in his letters or was deep in his cups, recorded her departure and, shortly thereafter, the room being let to a Mr. Thomas Criss. His mouth tipped in a displeased line. So, she was gone after all. He resolved to check the stables again and if he failed to turn her up he would continue down the list of establishments he had formulated the night before.

He clapped his hands together and bowed briefly over them in thanks to the proprietor before striding with a hitched gait out into the street.

Thomas Criss wandered the streets of Saint-Domingue. He looked at each building with great interest and progressed casually, wavering back and forth across the lane as he inspected each structure. His dark hair was tied back respectably but the rest of his appearance was less refined; his sailor's clothing was old, worn at the seams with a hole in the left knee of his trousers; the kerchief at his neck was ratty and tattered; a threadbare overcoat was stained with mud at the hem; his brown leather hat was likewise crumpled and worse for the wear; stubble covered his chin and cheeks and there were shadows beneath his brown eyes.

As he passed the Grey Horse Pub a man called out what sounded like a greeting in Spanish. Criss looked in his direction, curious. The squat gray-haired man was perched precariously atop a ladder, hammer in hand. He was adjusting the tavern's sign. Criss returned the elder's wave with a tip of his hat.

He continued on his way with a touch more haste. Frequently he would stop and casually glance at his surroundings. His hand was tucked carefully into the pocket of his overcoat and he carelessly played with the coins contained therein.

Since the hour was still early by the standard of the locale only a few pedestrians passed him in the lane. A wagon heavily laden with hay rumbled slowly past, drawn by a tired-looking team of mules and driven by an equally exhausted old man. Criss noted that the pile of hay seemed disturbed; he assumed a drunk or some unfortunate had taken refuge for the night and had since made him- or herself scare. Either way it was no concern of his.

Criss took to whistling a jaunty tune as he strolled along the road. Dust coated his boots but he hardly took notice. He swung his head from side to side, checking to see if he was being overlooked. Seeing no one, he reached under his coat and pulled an object from his belt. Letting the tune fade away, he flipped the compass open and watched the needle spin.

He watched with baited breath as the needle swung round one way, paused, flitted back the other way, stopped…and then swung in the opposite direction. Slowly Criss turned, keeping the compass stretched before him. The needle held its course.

The compass led Criss on a winding path through Saint-Domingue. Sometimes he would travel a main thoroughfare, other times he would be forced to duck down a grimy alleyway, squeezing between buildings. As he emerged from one of these tight spaces, the compass pointed sharply to the right. Brow furrowed, Criss looked up.

In that same heartbeat he jumped back into the alleyway. He slipped in the muck and cursed under his breath, arms braced against the walls to keep his footing. Breathing heavily, Criss looked warily over his shoulder and waited.

A man, obviously a pirate by his dress and distinctive swagger, lurched down the street hastily sporting a mild limp. His features were set in a hard line, his kohl-rimmed eyes steely. Trinkets strung generously in his hair chinked and jangled as he walked.

Criss chewed on his lip. Sweat stood out on his brow as he watched the pirate pass his hiding place by. His grip tightened on the compass that he held close to his chest. Tensely, he waited for the sound of footsteps to fade away.

Slinking back into the street he looked in the direction the pirate had gone. There was no sign of Captain Jack Sparrow. Cautiously, Criss glanced down at the compass that he held cradled in both hands. It pointed to the right, opposite the direction Jack had taken. With a relieved sigh Criss trotted down the street.

The compass continued to point in a straight line as Criss jogged block after block. Finally, feeling he was safely away from the pirate, he slowed to a walk. The day was already growing warm and humid and sweat trickled down his face. He brusquely swiped his sleeve across his forehead and focused on the compass face. Peripherally he noted that the buildings were becoming spaced further and further apart and vegetation began to close in as he progressed. He soon found himself at the edge of town.

Abruptly the needle swung around and led him right back into town. Growing irritable, Criss stomped down the street, kicking up large clouds of dust. He sneezed. The compass directed him left around the blacksmith's shop. He followed the lane almost to the town borders once more before swinging right and crossing through the town square. As he passed one of the finer residential structures he jerked right. A block later he made a rapid series of right-hand turns before emerging onto the main thoroughfare.

Criss stopped, frustrated. His cheeks were mottled red from exertion and he breathed heavily. The compass needle swung once more, pointing directly behind him. He cursed and snapped the device shut. Shoving it into his pocket, he turned around and froze in sheer panic.

The pirate captain stood at the side of the lane, conversing in broken Spanish with a pair of men. Struggling to regain his composure, Criss took a deep breath and forced himself to walk slowly past, on up the road toward his lodgings.

Jack's attention was drawn to the man in rag-tag clothes that passed hastily. He had heard the man's exclamation and subsequent rushed motions. He eyed him closely as he walked by. There was something suspicious about the man's actions. Jack tipped his head to the side and watched the stranger closely.

One of the men tapped Jack's shoulder. He started and looked back at the men. They appeared to want an answer from him; he had not heard the question. Even if he had, he probably would not have understood it. "Eh…bien, bueno, ta!" Turning his back on the men, Jack turned to shadow the suspicious young man. He was gone.

Jack clicked his tongue in frustration and stared down the empty street.

Angelica cursed and chucked the compass at the bed. It landed on the mattress and bounced to the floor. The lid flipped open. "Bloody thing," Angelica growled to herself as she also threw her hat and untied her hair. She slipped out of her tattered overcoat and whipped that at the ground as well. Coins spilled loudly from the pocket.

Panting in fury she glared around the room, searching for something else to vent her anger on. Finding nothing to fuel it, her rage gradually ebbed. She heaved a sigh and approached the washbasin. Angelica splashed water on her face and neck, enjoying the cooling sensation.

A knock sounded on her room door and she jumped. Eyes wide, she grabbed up her coat and hat and put them on. She glanced in the mirror, assuring herself that she looked right. She did not intend to answer the summons but wanted to be ready in case the lock was forced—not an uncommon occurrence in disreputable locales.

After several long minutes she heard footsteps retreating down the hall. She let out the breath she had been holding in. Repenting her earlier fit of temper, Angelica bent to retrieve the compass. As her fingers brushed the wooden case the needle whirled and fixed, pointing at the closed door.

Thomas Criss left his room with the compass in his pocket, determined to try his luck on the streets of Saint-Domingue once more. He walked through the inn with more confidence than he felt, expecting to run into Jack Sparrow at any minute. Upon entering the common room and finding it devoid of customers he chose to pause and have an early lunch.

He received a plate of pork and bread and a tankard of grog from the proprietor's wife and took a seat in the tavern. Criss ate the food slowly and neatly, taking delicate sips of the grog. He took his time with the meal even though it lacked flavor. Outside the sun had reached its zenith and was beating unmercifully down upon the town.

Criss leaned back in his chair and propped his boots on the tabletop. His plate sat empty and he had the tankard cupped in his hands. As he relaxed other patrons began to file in to the common room, some coming off the street and dripping sweat, and others descending from their rooms. Among the latter was Jack Sparrow. Criss dropped his gaze instantly.

Jack sauntered out of the inn without sparing him a glance. Criss let his pent up breath out in a loud exhalation. The dining room was growing ever more crowded and he soon found his thoughts being drowned out by the background noise of mingled conversations. In his coat pocket he ran his fingers over the smooth wood case of the compass. He closed his eyes for a long moment, focusing on his one true desire.

When he thought he had the perfect thought in mind he tossed some coins on the table and trotted out of the pub. Once outside he drew the compass from his pocket and flipped it open. The needle twirled rapidly. Abruptly it stopped, pointing dead to the right. Criss turned his head.

"'ello Angelica," Jack murmured with an amused grin. His gold teeth glinted in the sunlight.

Angelica flushed red. She coughed gruffly in an attempt to hide her discomfort and maintain her disguise and hastily tucked the compass away. It was too late. Jack extended his hand expectantly. Angelica turned away but Jack caught her arm and spun her back.

Keeping his grip firm, Jack wiped at the grayish mottling on her face. "Charcoal? Very clever my dear." Angelica fought against his hold but gained no ground. She settled on averting her gaze. "What are you after this time luv?"

"That is none of your business Jack," she retorted in a low voice.

"I beg to differ, seeing as how you bludgeoned me like a common scoundrel."

"You _are_ a common scoundrel."

"Obviously you do not know where what you're looking for is located, since you went to all that trouble to get the compass that reveals the location of undisclosed treasures—or, in your case, desires." His grin widened as his amusement overcame his irritation. "Point you wrong did it, luv?"

Angelica snorted. "Don't flatter yourself Jack. The compass wasn't pointing at you."

"Uh-huh," he purred with laughter in his voice, "then tell me why it led you a merry chase about town earlier, always bringing you back to me?"

Angelica's eyes narrowed. "What do you know?"

"A great deal more'n you, apparently."

"Unlikely."

"Oh, you think you know it all, do you?"

"At least I don't spend my life perpetually drunk."

"You'd have a whole lot more fun if you did!"

"I have had plenty of enjoyable experiences."

"Too bad you were being paid for most of those; I'm sure they would have been far less pleasurable had you not—" Jack rolled his jaw. The sting of the slap numbed his face.

Angelica glared heatedly up at him. "You should have never come near that convent."

Jack rubbed his reddened cheek tenderly. "I suppose I deserved that," he muttered to himself.

"You certainly did." She turned out of his grip and tramped away.

Jack started back to his senses and bolted after her. She took off running and he gave chase. Pedestrians jumped out of their way as the pair thundered through the streets of Saint-Domingue. Angelica snuck the compass out of her pocket and concentrated hard. The needle swung to and fro, jittering wildly as her gait jarred it. Finally it fixed on a point and Angelica adjusted her course accordingly. She was spurred on by the sound of Jack's footfalls behind her.

As the town fell away behind them the compass needle flicked to point in the direction of the thickly grown jungle. Angelica sprinted along the tree line, following a poorly maintained path. The sun beat down on them. Angelica felt rivulets of sweat trickling down her back. To her left the jungle rose sheer to the sky, leafy, green, and thoroughly impenetrable. She panted as she continued to run, eyeing the foliage for a break.

Finally she found it. A moderate sized stream intersected the path and parted the undergrowth, forming a tunnel that would admit a crouching human. Angelica splashed into the water and ducked. She moved as quickly as she was able up the stream, shoving her way through low-hanging vines. The amount of noise created by her passage made it impossible for her to tell if Jack was still on her trail or not.

The trees blocked most of the sunlight and she had to strain her eyes in the dimness to read the compass. Faintly, the edge of the needle glimmered. It was still pointing dead into the jungle. Angelica followed the stream, which offered the only break in the dense vegetation, faithfully. It twisted and turned, deepened and became shallower. Water flooded into her boots with each step and sloshed up onto her pant-legs. Vines and moss-coated branches hung low over the water and her back soon began to ache from proceeding at a crouch.

Angelica gradually became aware of a constant, muted roar emanating from somewhere ahead. She fingered the pommel of her cutlass and advanced more cautiously, never once forgetting the danger that presumably still trailed behind her through the jungle.

She stepped unawares into a deep gulch in the stream and sank to her waist. It was far colder than she had realized and she took in a startled breath but pressed onward. The overgrowth on either side of the stream began to retreat, replaced by moss-strewn boulders. Angelica waded to the smallest of these and, struggling on the slick surface, clambered out of the water. She paused a moment to catch her breath.

The break in the vegetation allowed more light to seep through the canopy. Angelica eyed the compass. The needle pointed obliquely to the left. Belatedly she realized the ominous roaring crash was louder now—much louder. Strain her ears though she might, she could not determine if Jack still pursued her.

Cutlass drawn, she inched around the treacherously dampened rocks. As she reached the top of the pile she froze on all fours, staring at the scene before her in unconcealed awe and delight. The ominous sound was a waterfall, cascading a good fifty feet over a collection of downed trees and boulders, all turned a brilliant emerald by the thick growth of moss that covered them. The water fell in transparent, feathered sheets and created a fantastical veil of mist that seemed to hang, unchanging, in the clearing. At the base of the falls an enormous clear pool divided the forest. Tropical flowers bloomed in vibrant gold, magenta and lavender from their unlikely positions amid the deadfall surrounding the cascade. This was the source of the stream she had followed.

Angelica slid down the face of the boulder upon which she sat and landed with an audible _squelch_ on the damp, cushiony moss. She sheathed her weapon and approached the pool. Checking the compass, she was disheartened to see that it pointed straight across. The water, though crystal-clear, was dark and she could not see the bottom of the pond.

Just as she was steeling herself to take the plunge she noticed a series of boulders rising from a shallower area, creating the semblance of a stepping-stone pathway across the water. She eyed the rocks carefully. Some were huge, large enough to accommodate several people on their exposed surfaces, while others were tiny, barely large enough for one to fit both feet on. Curiously, all presented relatively flat surfaces unlike the rounded or strangely angled stones that surrounded her. The path was not a single line of rocks; there were several divergences that either dead-ended too far from shore or made an arch to arrive back on the original trajectory.

She paced down the shoreline until she reached the first boulder. As she stood gauging the path she was to take, the forest parted behind her. Angelica swung around, drawing her cutlass in the same movement. Jack stood in a shaft of sunlight, stretching his back. Belatedly realizing she had spotted him, he reached for his weapon and drew, leveling the pistol with deadly accuracy.

Angelica narrowed her eyes. "You wouldn't dare," she hissed slowly, deliberately.


	2. Chapter 2

Though he was still breathing hard from the frantic trek through the jungle Jack's hand was steady, his eyes devoid of emotion. "I'd do anything for the Pearl,"

Angelica backed a step and half-turned so that her left hand, which held the compass dangling by its cord, stretched over the deep pool. "Tsk, tsk Jack," she scolded, "don't you know that violence solves nothing?"

Jack let out a mirthless bark of laughter. "If only that were true, luv," he whispered. A forlorn, far-reaching look softened his eyes briefly. As his gaze refocused on his opponent the look turned steely. He held his pistol level for a long moment. Angelica refused to back down. Jack thumbed back the hammer. Angelica continued to stare him down without flinching. Finally Jack sighed and lowered the gun. "What would it take to get that back?" he asked with a defeated shrug.

"Once I get what I want, it's all yours," Angelica promised lightly.

"And just what are you after anyway?"

"That is a secret. Now, if you don't mind, I intend to be on my way." She turned her back on him and stepped nearer to the edge of the pool. Jack advanced briskly after her. "Without an escort," she added pointedly, glancing over her shoulder. Jack stopped and fingered the guard of his cutlass in irritation. Angelica fastened the compass to her belt and stepped out onto the first boulder.

Jack drew his cutlass and rushed after her. She heard him coming and timed her turn to block his strike at the last moment. The force of the impact caused her boots to slide on the wet stone. Jack pressed his advantage and jumped onto the large stone beside her. They exchanged parries and blows without either gaining the upper hand. A natural lull broke the action and left them facing off, swords aloft and glinting in the sunlight.

As if reacting to a silent queue Angelica jumped to the next stone and Jack swung ineffectively after her. Arms flailing for balance, Jack gave chase. She advanced once more, putting a span of water between them. The rock on which she now stood was not large enough to accommodate more than one person.

Jack attacked and the tip of his sword missed Angelica's stomach by mere inches. Angelica instinctively skipped to the next stone. Jack lunged and ended up spread across two stones, his front foot bearing most of his weight and his hind perched precariously, balancing on the toe of his boot. He shuffled his feet to avoid slipping off the rocks but Angelica afforded him little time; she had recovered and was on the offensive. Jack parried frantically. His boots continued to slide bit by bit, dropping him into the splits still further.

With a shout Jack pushed off and launched himself forward, landing on the smaller stone. He swayed wildly, unbalanced. Angelica pressed her advantage and struck at his flank. As he dodged he skittered dangerously close to the edge of his perch.

Angelica leapt to the next shelf of rock, and then the next. She was now halfway across the stretch of water. Jack chased after her. When she stopped abruptly to turn and fight once more, Jack was unable to curb his momentum; he fell forward onto the same boulder upon which she stood. He wrapped his arms around her and with a shout of surprise she instinctively clutched at him, each trying to keep from pitching headlong into the water. Panting, they looked down and to the side, eyeing the sliver of stone separating their boots from the water.

With a start they recovered their wits and released each other, bringing their cutlasses up. They pressed the blades together awkwardly, unable to extend their arms. Glaring at one another, they shuffled in a tight circle on the stone, pivoting around the crossed swords. The metal scraped and groaned as they engaged in their deadly dance.

Jack grabbed the compass with his free hand and tugged at her belt furiously to release the precious device. Angelica dropped her blade and smacked the back of his hand with the flat of it. Jack hissed and withdrew his hand, flapping it in pain. He glanced over his shoulder to gauge the distance and jumped backward when next she swung, landing on the next stone.

Angelica pressed forward, cutlass pointed threateningly at Jack's chest. The latter brought his blade up and slid it along hers, eliciting a high-pitched metal screech. Angelica caught the tip of his sword with the base of hers and twirled it harmlessly aside. She spun her cutlass in rapid, tight circles, frequently wiggling the pattern or reversing it entirely. Jack furrowed his brow as he tried to follow the vacillating path. Angelica backed him to the edge of the stone and turned him so his heels were at the very edge. With a quick thrust she tricked him into jumping backward.

Realizing his predicament Jack clumsily struggled to gain his footing. She had forced him onto the outlying arch of stones that strayed further into the lake before returning to the path. Angelica hastily jumped from rock to rock, making rapid headway across the water. Jack opted to take the route to which he had been forced; he moved nimbly, barely touching each stone before leaping to the next. He kept his arms aloft, waving foolishly in the air as he ran. Jack kept his gaze trained on Angelica, gauging her progress as compared to his.

Angelica pulled up abruptly. She was at the edge of a large stone platform. Several feet of uninterrupted water stretched out before her. She was not certain she could make the jump.

Jack landed on the rock before her, grinning triumphantly. "Can't you make it, luv?" he asked cheekily.

Angelica bit her lip and snorted indignantly. She could not come up with a suitable retort. She eyed the distance between her and Jack uncertainly. Even if she made the leap the rock was scarcely large enough to accommodate them both.

Gritting her teeth, she attempted the vault. Jack watched her come with wide, disbelieving eyes; he had not expected she would take the risk. The world seemed to drop into slow motion as she floated through the mist.

As she closed the distance they both realized that her bound would come up short. Instinctively Jack reached out with his left hand to catch hold of her; she, in turn, reached for him. Angelica crashed halfway into Jack and halfway into the rock. Jack grabbed hold of her arm and tried to haul her up. She sank and with a startled cry Jack flipped clear over her into the water.

They came up with a collective gasp and spat out mouthfuls of water.

"Wet. Wet again," Jack grumbled under his breath as he struggled to tread water and sheathe his cutlass. Angelica began swimming to the nearest rock with her sword still in hand. Jack followed after her and hauled himself out onto the large stone. Without thinking about the gesture he offered his hand to Angelica, who was having trouble getting clear of the water. Soon they were both lying on their backs on the stone panting, sodden and in foul spirits.

"Considering the circumstances," Angelica began, her Spanish lisp made more prominent by her shortness of breath, "perhaps we should call a temporary truce."

Jack rolled his head to the side and looked at her closely. She returned the gesture with a sincere expression. "Alright then, I'll let you off the hook," Jack drawled as he looked back up at the canopy, "for now."

"Recall it was I who had the upper hand throughout the fight Sparrow."

Jack groaned and sat up. He gathered his coattails and wrung them out. "A gentleman allows a lady to maintain her fiction." He patted his head and, not finding what he had expected, looked frantically about. His eyes settled on a dark tricorn bobbing on the surface of the pool several feet away. "Hat!" he exclaimed as he dove back into the water and began swimming toward it. The splash of his reentrance soaked Angelica afresh and she threw a string of angry Spanish exclamations after him. When she realized that he either was not listening or could not hear her over the splashing, she made a dismissive gesture after him and squeezed the water from her hair again.

Angelica carefully made her way along the separated stone pathway. Despite the warm ambient temperature she shivered and wrapped her arms around herself.

Jack swam over to her, hat planted firmly on his head. He threw his arms up onto the rock and extended a hand expectantly toward Angelica. She regarded him coolly and knelt beside him. He grinned charmingly. Angelica gave him a tight-lipped smile before shoving him back into the water. She sauntered away toward shore.

Jack surfaced with a sharp inhalation and, grumbling, hauled himself out. "As long as you'll be going ashore first why don't you find some dry wood and start a fire, eh?" he called, straining to keep his voice neutral.

"And you'll go find something to eat, eh?" she shot back over her shoulder.

"Aye," Jack growled between his teeth as he stomped across the wet rocks. He shook his head violently and sent a shower of droplets flying wide. He slipped out of his sodden overcoat and found a branch on which to hang it. The garment dripped discouragingly. Jack added his hat to the makeshift drying rack. He turned a pointed look on Angelica. "If anything happens to that," he pointed to the worn leather tricorn, "you'll answer to me."

"No one else would bother with that ratty piece of leather."

"I'm glad we understand each other," he said dryly as he fingered the butt of his pistol. He watched her with suspicion for a long moment before turning into the jungle. "First thing I see I'm going to shoot."

.

Jack returned almost an hour later carrying his catch before him, tail pinched between his thumb and forefinger. His face was a mask of disgust and trepidation. The lifeless creature dangled from his grasp, its long limbs stretching toward the ground. The head was a gory mess. Angelica could not repress a sympathetic whine as she saw what, exactly, Jack had killed. "Really Jack, did you have to shoot a monkey?"

Jack worked his jaw for a moment before answering, finding himself rather put-out by the lacklustre welcome. "Old habits and all that, luv. For the record it was actually the second thing I saw." His lip twitched into a grimace. "And I didn't shoot it. Wet powder."

"Obviously," Angelica commented with a cheerless expression. "What did you do, hit it with a stick?"

"A rock, actually."

"What was the first thing you saw?"

"I can't say for certain." He cleared his throat and scuttled over to her. She recoiled as the dead monkey swung near to her face. Jack dropped it into her lap. "Have fun."

Angelica looked up at him with a disapproving sneer. "Some 'gentleman'."

Jack ignored her. He was already at the pool frantically scrubbing all traces of monkey from his hands. Heaving a sigh, Angelica drew a knife from her boot and began gutting and skinning the monkey. Jack wandered off. Before Angelica had finished her distasteful task Jack returned toting long greenwood poles which he assembled into a makeshift spit over the fire. They tied the monkey onto it with bits of vine scavenged from nearby trees and settled on opposite sides of the fire.

Jack reclined and casually picked at his fingernails. His stint in the water had smeared the kohl surrounding his eyes, making him look exhausted. Only the lively glint in his eyes dispelled the illusion. Angelica realized that she was staring and turned the meat.

"Angelica, tell me true: what are you after?"

"Are you asking out of honest curiosity or just as a means to an end?"

"I'll let you decide that for yourself."

"Hm."

They fell into silence for a long moment. Jack watched her through heavy-lidded eyes. She kept a straight face and tried to ignore his stare.

"Is it out here?"

"The compass seems to think so."

"So it is then. Obviously now that you have the honorable pleasure of my company it is pointing true."

"Don't flatter yourself Sparrow."

He grinned and his gold teeth glinted in the firelight. The sun was creeping toward the horizon and the clearing was growing dimmer by the minute. Jack gazed across the water, enjoying the simple beauty of the light filtering through the mist; a faint suggestion of a rainbow played at the base of the falls. Already the night-blooming flowers were beginning to release their scents.

"So what is it?"

"A treasure."

"How large?"

Angelica eyed him warily. "How do I know I can trust you not to go behind my back?"

Jack shrugged with one shoulder. "You have the compass and thus are holding all the cards. I am your humble servant." He sounded sincere. "Besides, if I were to betray you don't you think I would have done so by now?"

Angelica did not trust him further than she could throw his rotten carcass but she realized she had little choice if she were to achieve her end. "You've heard of Drake?"

"Sir Francis Drake? Aye. Favorite of the Queen, wannit he?"

"Mhmm. He was in the party that captured the silver train and also took a Spanish galleon. He brought much wealth to the English Crown. On the first of January, fifteen eight-six, he sacked Saint Domingue without provocation and thoroughly destroyed it. The rogue even took the church bells." She spat, a most unladylike habit, but her disgust for the actions she described was genuine. "It made little sense to raid the town; the only thing of interest was the mansion of Alc zar de Col n and, wealthy though it was, paled in comparison to the sums Drake had already amounted for the Crown."

Jack furrowed his brow. "How much did he make off with?"

"No one knows exactly. But there was another rumor-"

"Isn't there always?"

"-that he ransacked the city to hide his true intent."

"Which was?"

"To hide the cuts he had taken for himself from the Spanish treasure. Silver, gold, precious gems the size of your fist all of it, hidden here in Saint Domingue."

Jack balled his hand into a fist and eyed it askance. Even as he spoke his stare remained fixed. "Surely it would have been found by now if it were ever here at all," Jack scoffed. Despite his harsh words his eyes reflected greed.

Angelica smiled knowingly. Instead of answering him right away she cut a piece of meat from the spit, examined it, and then popped it into her mouth. As she chewed she gestured for Jack to do the same. He refused. She swallowed and decided to alleviate his poorly concealed irritation at the delay. "That's the best part. Alcazar de Colon has been abandoned since Drake's attack. He killed all the residents, from the servants to the master." She leaned toward him and her eyes glimmered in the firelight. "That's where he hid the treasure, Jack."

Jack shook his head and chuckled quietly. The trinkets in his hair jingled musically. "I think you've deluded yourself luv. Drake would have retrieved his loot-"

"He died of dysentery near Porto Bello before he could return."

"-or if he didn't someone else has undoubtedly found it by now." He fixed her with a penetrating look. "What makes you so certain?"

"Two things. Firstly, the compass is leading us straight to Alcazar de Colon. Secondly," she reached into her shirt. Jack watched uncertainly. She withdrew her hand. Clasped in her fist was a small leather pouch. She upended the contents into her palm and showed Jack a small assortment of raw gems about the size of a pistol ball each. Jack's eyes went wide and he reached across the fire. Angelica withdrew the stones, stowed them in the pouch, and tucked it safely away. "I assume that is proof enough?"

Jack's eyes were disbelieving, his jaw slack. "I do believe you have dispelled my reservations." Angelica grinned. "However I would find it more, eh," he paused and made a show of searching for the proper word, "persuasive if I could examine those jewels more closely."

"Do you think I am a fool?"

"I prefer the term 'naive' - it sounds so much nicer, don't you think?"

Thereafter, they ate in silence. The sunlight continued to fade and shadows crept from the depths of the jungle like feral animals, advancing ominously. Nocturnal creatures cried out and the perfume of the evening flowers became stronger, almost overpowering. The fire flickered and popped, sending up a shower of sparks. Angelica rubbed her hands together to remove the meat-grease. She settled down onto the mossy bed and inched near to the fire. Her clothing was still damp and the encroaching night made her feel colder than she was. As she watched the flames dance, her eyelids began to droop.

Jack stood and sauntered into the jungle without a word. Angelica let him go without complaint. The fire's gentle glow lulled her into a sense of security and she allowed her eyes to drift shut, just for a moment. All at once she lost her sense of urgency in her errand. Jack was on her side; the treasure could wait awhile longer.

The pirate swaggered back toward the clearing, using the fire as his guide. As he stepped clear of the trees he opened his mouth to speak. His jaw clicked shut. Instead, he slunk around the fire, moving as silently as possible. Jack paused near Angelica's sleeping form. After a moment he kneeled beside her and gently brushed the hair from her face.

She stirred with a small moan and her eyes cracked open. Without seeming to register his presence or her surroundings she closed her eyes again and dropped back asleep. Jack settled back on his heels and forced himself to relax. Thoughts of his beloved ship were constantly at the back of his mind, urging him to hasten things along, to get on her trail once more and to avenge her. At the same time, his feelings for Angelica were foremost in his mind, a mixture of admiration, loathing, annoyance, and romance. He waited tensely at her side, hoping she would wake soon and they could be on their way. Eager as he was, he had not the heart to wake her.

The minutes dragged by in agony for Jack. He fidgeted. He got up and paced around the clearing, practicing his swordplay with shadows. He visited the dwindling fire and picked at the charred carcass of the monkey.

Angelica sat up, yawning. She rubbed at her bleary eyes and looked at him in mild confusion. "Ready to go?" she asked around a yawn.

"Only if you are," Jack replied, feigning nonchalance. He kicked dirt onto the fire. Leaving it half-smothered, he went to retrieve his coat and hat. Jack shrugged into his still-damp overcoat, smashed the hat upon his head, and offered Angelica a hand up. She ignored his offer of help and got to her feet alone, stretching. "After you, milady," he mumbled as she stalked past him into the jungle, compass in hand.

.

The pair traversed a stone courtyard, Jack in the lead. A shriveled monkey paw hung from a cord around his neck. Nature had had nigh on two-hundred years to reclaim the mansion and had taken full advantage of that time. Vines drooped from trees that had sprouted at will in the courtyard, erupting through the paving stones and destroying the carefully-laid tiles. Fountains and statues lay silent and desolate, covered in a thick growth of moss and ferns. No longer was the space an open courtyard; it more closely resembled a gnarled old-growth forest. Moonlight was barred from the scene, blocked by the canopies of the trees.

Jack held his torch aloft. The firelight danced over the murky green surroundings, sometimes showing a hint of a decayed wall, the moss-encrusted face of a statue, or the crumbling wall and quiet pool of a fountain. Twisted branches reached out from the darkness, grasping at their clothing like phantom hands. A night-creature's call echoed through the forest and made Angelica's skin crawl.

Angelica followed close on Jack's heels, unnerved by the eerie surroundings. Jack stopped abruptly and swung the torch to his left. He leaned forward and narrowed his eyes, inspecting a featureless, human-sized, moss-covered lump.

"Hmm," he murmured. He brought his left hand up and dug at the lichen, ripping it from the stone beneath. His efforts slowly uncovered the chiseled features of a human face. "Ah, Senor Diego Colon himself if I'm not mistaken. Or rather, his effigy." He made a face as he realized the nose had been snapped off the statue. "What's left of it. The years haven't been all that kind, I gather."

"Enough dawdling," Angelica snapped as she put a hand on his arm. "We are here for the treasure."

Jack glanced at her over his shoulder, his eyes hooded. "All in good time love." He gave the damaged statue a final calculating look before continuing on his way. Angelica followed readily after him. "And we'll be splitting that seventy-thirty, aye? Myself getting the larger share of course," Jack drawled. The torchlight bounced wildly as he paced jauntily along, casting stark patches of light and shadow around them.

"You'll get an even fifty percent, and that's if you're lucky," she spat in return, stepping faster to fall in beside him.

"You mean if I survive?" he parried, shooting her a wary glance. In the warm torchlight her expression was fierce. "No, I shall be getting more of the loot. It is my compass leading us there, after all. You should be delighted I'm willing to share at all!" He made an expansive gesture with his right hand and Angelica jumped aside, sprawling in the vegetation to avoid being hit by the torch.

She floundered amongst the foliage for several moments before gaining her feet. Jack had continued thoughtlessly along, leaving her in darkness. She stomped after him. "You wouldn't even know about the treasure were it not for me!"

"Aye, and for that you'll be getting the thirty percent. You also owe me for injuries sustained at your hand, hence why I'm getting that extra twenty of your fifty, bringing you down to thirty. S'bloody generous of me, say I." An insincere, tight smile flitted across his face.

She growled under her breath. "I could have killed you. All my problems would have been solved; with you dead the compass would have led me right here straightaway." She swung her fist in the air to emphasize her words.

"Live and learn, eh?" He quirked an eyebrow as he contemplated her unfiltered rant. "So I was more important to you than some bits of shine?" He grinned and the firelight glinted off his gold teeth. "Interesting."

"Don't push your luck Sparrow; I can still change my mind."

"As can I, love."

She let out an irritated huff and continued stomping after him. Jack sauntered along, watching for danger ahead and listening for it from behind.

"Although," he said slowly, coming to an abrupt stop. Angelica, unprepared, slammed into his back. He dropped the torch and whirled around, his hands going to her waist and shoulder.

She took in an offended breath and glared at him. "What are you doing?"

One side of Jack's mouth quirked, though his eyes remained wary. "Being cautious." He lifted the pistol out of her belt and whipped the strap of her baldric over her head. As he pulled it toward him, down her arm, she grasped hold of it and met his eyes coldly. Jack added the pilfered pistol to his own sash and rolled his head back, looking at her down his nose with hooded eyes. "Give."

She tipped her head and her eyes took on a fiery glint. "No."

"Then this private tour of the elegant gardens of All-cay-zar di Colon-"

"Alc zar de Col n," she corrected automatically, dryly.

He gave a little shrug. "Whatever. No weapons beyond this point." He accentuated his words by tilting his head down and staring at her.

"This is becoming very one-sided," she remarked bitterly.

"Tut, tut," Jack scoffed lightly, patting her on the head as he yanked the baldric from her grasp. She grabbed for it but he had it well out of reach and her hand closed on air. He slipped it over his head, adjusting it to lie opposite his own weapon. "What do you think?"

Without answering she shouldered past him, picked up the torch, and stamped along the overgrown path. Jack chuckled to himself and followed leisurely after her, twirling the compass at the end of its string.

"Jack!"

"Well, what is it now?" he asked casually as he approached. "Oh."

A wall of vines, branches, and tree trunks blocked their path. The barrier extended as far as the torch light could penetrate on either side of their path.

Angelica half-turned toward him. "Cutlass?"

"I don't think so, love, we'll-"

Angelica's brow furrowed. "What's that on your shoulder?"

"Aha, don't expect me to fall for that one," Jack said with a small smile. He brought his right hand up to brush at his lapel, glancing down out of the corner of his eye as he did so and froze. "Mm mmnah!" he whimpered, eyes going wide. "Get it off!" He flung his arms out and stood stock still thereafter, scarcely daring to breathe. Perched on his breast was a spider about the size of a shilling, legs and body counted.

Angelica laughed outright.

"This is no laughing matter!" Jack insisted through gritted teeth, keeping his frightened gaze on the arachnid clinging to his person.

Angelica stopped laughing. Her mirth melted into a calculating, manipulative look as she regarded the scene. "What is this? The great Captain Jack Sparrow is defeated by a mere spider?"

"'Mere'? Hardly." Jack's chest rose and fell rapidly as he began to truly panic. He risked moving his gaze from the arachnid to Angelica, his eyes pleading. She was watching him with a shark-like grin. He took a deep breath, attempted a smile, and narrowed his eyes, trying to appear normal. "Tell you what," he swallowed dryly, "if you can convince this filthy, venomous, helli ahhh!" he squealed as the spider took one tiny step higher on his shoulder. "I mean this, this fine, eight-legged bloodthirsty specimen," he glanced nervously down at the spider as if afraid of offending it, "to find somewhere else to sit, I will allow you your cutlass." He smiled tightly and the resulting expression was more of a grimace.

Angelica settled into a relaxed stance and watched him silently, intently, gauging his breaking point. Jack began to tremble and sweat beaded on his brow as a result of the adrenaline coursing through him.

"Please my dear, let's not dawdle. Mmn," he glanced down nervously. The spider inched upward.

"My weapons?"

"Will be returned promptly."

"The compass?"

"Take it."

She stepped nearer to him and reached for his shoulder. Her hand hovered over the spider. After several seconds she thought better of it and instead reclaimed the items she had bartered for. "Ta," she whispered, leaning close to his ear. She turned to leave.

Jack's eyes widened again. "Angelica!"

She turned back, laughing, and casually brushed the spider from his shoulder.

Jack ruffled his sleeves and shivered as if ridding himself of the experience. "Haha, yes, very amusing," he drawled, clearly not amused at all.

"Don't be such a poor sport Jack," she admonished, rubbing her hand along his arm.

"'Don't be such a poor sport,'" Jack mimicked under his breath, his lip drawn up in a sneer. "Let's just hack a way through that," he pointed at the wall of foliage, "and be on our way."

"As you say, Captain." Jack ignored the sarcasm and drew his cutlass. He poked the tip into the mass of plants, withdrew, chose a new spot and poked again. He continued stabbing at random until Angelica interrupted him.

"Jack, what are you doing?"

"Finding its weak spot."

She sighed heavily, lifted her sword, and began hacking at the foliage. Jack stepped aside, sheathed his blade, and watched. Leaves and vines dropped as Angelica continued to chop through the tangle. Finally a hole large enough to admit them was formed and Angelica automatically moved to sheathe her weapon. The blade clattered to the ground when it should have hung in the frog. Angelica turned to Jack. "My baldric?"

"Hmm?" he asked, apparently starting out of a daze.

"You're useless," she snapped as she pulled the item off him.

"I'm sorry, I wasn't listening,"

"That much is obvious." She slipped her baldric on and readjusted the strap. She knelt to retrieve her sword. It now rested on the toe of Jack's boot. With a quick motion he lifted his foot, flinging the blade into the air. He snatched the grip and with a twirl pointed the tip down at her. An amused grin spread slowly across his face and he wiggled his eyebrows mockingly. "Always have to have the last word, don't you Jack?" she spat.

Jack took a long, deep breath and exhaled unconcernedly. "I'm Captain Jack Sparrow," he said lightly, obviously, with a small shake of his head. "Now, please, no more playing games, eh?" He flipped the sword in the air, catching the flat of the blade and presenting the hilt to Angelica. "I for one would love to be rid of this jungle and its eight-legged inhabitants as soon as possible." He offered his hand, which she accepted.

Once on her feet she took the cutlass back and sheathed it. "No more games," she agreed.

The pair continued on their way, scaling fallen logs, wading through overrun pools and slithering through gnarled vegetation. The blades of their cutlasses ran with plant juices and were spattered with mashed flora. Thorns had leapt from the darkness, rending their clothing and carving scratches into their skin. They clawed at bites received from bloodthirsty insects and pulled leaves from their hair.

Unexpectedly a moss-encrusted stone barrier reared up before them; Jack's cutlass struck sparks as he continued to swipe automatically at the surrounding greenery. He almost dropped the blade in his surprise, jumped back and blinked quickly. "I believe we have arrived."

Angelica came to stand beside him, breathing heavily, and raised the torch. Stone blocks rose beyond the reach of the torchlight and faded away into shadows on either side. Her brow furrowed irritably. "Where is the entrance?"

Jack gave a noncommittal grunt. He kept his gaze on the fortress-like wall looming before him, following it up to where it vanished into the night. His fingers trailed along the moss-covered stone, searching for a hint of weakness. The pirate side-stepped along the wall alternately ducking under and stepping over unruly plants. A thorny weed caught hold of his jacket and he pulled roughly free. He moved beyond the reach of the torchlight.

"Jack?" Angelica called after several minutes of silence. He did not answer. "Jack!" she shouted. When still there was no response she huffed irritably and began crawling through the vegetation after him. Sooner than expected he turned up, clawing at the wall and making curious sounds in his efforts. Angelica quirked an eyebrow and regarded him strangely. "Has the jungle gotten to you? Why didn't you answer me?"

Jack paused in his work and squinted through the torchlight at her. "You'd be amazed how this delightful, erm, garden deadens even your harpyesque cries." Without taking his eyes off her he restarted his task. Angelica was about to cuff him for the insult but hesitated as she realized what he was doing: he was prying handful after handful of vines and moss away from the stone wall. Already his efforts were beginning to unveil a break in the wall. It appeared to be ragged, unintended by the original builders.

When Jack had cleared it sufficiently to admit them they stepped carefully through with Angelica and the torch in the lead. Inside the air was stagnant. Angelica straightened and held the light high, illuminating as much of the space as possible. The unsteady light revealed stone walls overrun by vegetation. The room was large, too large to be completely lit by the single torch. The pair stepped forward, eyes turned aloft, examining their surroundings.

Jack slunk around to the right. His boot clipped something solid on the ground; it clattered distinctively. Jack's lip curled as he looked straight down. Angelica brought the torch nearer. A human skull stared up at them with empty eye sockets, grinning maniacally. Though neither of them would admit it a shiver ran down both their spines. Their eyes flicked away from the skull only to find more human remains, scattered all across the floor of the room.

"Who are they?" Angelica whispered.

"You're the historian," Jack retorted, also keeping his voice reverently low.

Angelica's brow furrowed and she shook her head. "Perhaps the servants? Drake's men slaughtered everyone, whether or not they put up a fight."

Jack licked his lips. "We should keep moving."

Angelica made a sound of acquiescence and they moved deeper into the mansion. A rough sweep of the ground level turned up nothing of interest. The building was badly deteriorated; there were several places where the ceiling or walls had caved in. Trees shattered the thick walls and vines dangled from the stones above. Their passage disrupted a colony of bats which flew shrieking over their heads, flitted through an opening and disappeared into the night.

They progressed further down the dark, dank hallway and glanced into every aperture they passed. The mansion was, aside from the remains of the people who once lived in it, empty. Refusing to give up, the intruders continued until they found themselves at the bottom of a large stairwell.

"Shall we?" Jack asked. His voice sounded vaguely tired.

"We have to," Angelica replied with certainty.

"Mhmm. After you,"

Angelica passed him by without even bothering to berate him. Holding the torch out in front of her she began the climb. Halfway to the top the steps took a ninety-degree turn to the left. The stairs had a gradual slope and seemed to go on forever. The torchlight bounced across the fuzzy green-coated walls. Jack shuffled after her, taking his time with the stairs. Angelica had made the top before he reached the turn. "Hurry up!" she barked, unable to keep the anticipation from her voice.

She waited impatiently at the top of the stairs. She paced back and forth. Finally, she gave up waiting and stomped down the corridor, taking the only light with her.

"Oy! A little dark down here," Jack called in an irritatingly relaxed voice. His steps sounded evenly on the stairs, undeterred by the darkness. He gained the second floor. Down the corridor he saw Angelica, silhouetted against the flickering orange light of the torch. She had paused and was examining something on the wall to her right. To her left the promenade was illuminated by moonlight streaming through open archways. A shattered balcony railing stretched across the openings. Jack narrowed his eyes as his senses suddenly went on alert. Something was wrong but he could not quite identify what it was.

Angelica's shocked scream was overwhelmed as the stone beneath her gave way, thundering deafeningly to the floor below. As the floor caved she staggered and tried to jump clear. Her leap fell short, dropping her several feet in a fraction of a second. She screamed as she fell.


	3. Chapter 3

Her voice cut out with a sharp exhalation as she stopped abruptly, her shoulder jarring painfully. Panting and wild-eyed, she looked up at Jack who had hold of her wrist. He was lying flat on the stones above, stretched halfway through the hole.

"Jack," she breathed thankfully.

He ground his teeth and grimaced. Sharp pangs in his gut marked where the pistols pressed into his body. The pair slid a fraction of an inch further. Jack tried to dig the toes of his boots into a groove in the tiled floor. A quiet, ominous rumble commanded his attention and made him look over his shoulder. The moonlight spilling through the arches revealed nothing. Bits of stone crumbled from beneath him, clattering musically atop the rubble below.

Jack turned back to look at her, his face distorted by the wavering torchlight rising from the hole. His arm trembled with the strain of her weight. He tried to squirm backward, teeth sunk into his limp in concentraton, fighting against gravity with all his might. He felt his shoulder pop and pulled all the harder, desperate to achieve his end before the joint dislocated.

The stone beneath him tremored.

"Pull me up!" Angelica ordered in a panic. She thrashed desperately at the end of his arm, grabbing hold of him with her free hand. He felt her nails even through the dense fabric of his overcoat.

Jack widened his eyes in an irritated, exasperated expression. "Trying," he wheezed, throwing his weight backward again. He succeeded in dragging the full of his chest back onto the upper corridor. His grip began to fail.

"Jack!"

Sweat drenched his body, further weakening his hold. He was gasping for breath, muscles burning with the effort. His eyes held an apology. Angelica looked up at him in terror.

Jack swung his legs to the side, slowly inching them beneath him so he was squatting, stretched forward to maintain his grip on Angelica.

"Jack, what are you-"

_Crunch._

The stone beneath Jack began to crumble. At the last second Jack yanked mightily, throwing himself onto his back and dragging Angelica topside into the corridor. The pair separated and scrambled desperately for the stable portion of the floor. The tiles fell away behind them and they sprawled, panting desperately, onto the floor.

They crawled still further away from the opening, Jack moving markedly slower. For several moments they slumped together, breathing heavily. Tears streamed down Angelica's face.

As she began to recover her breath she edged toward Jack. He lay flat on his back, chest heaving and eyes closed. She snuggled beside him, resting her head on his shoulder. Weak moonlight leaked through the archway before them, broken only by the deteriorating stone banister.

Angelica looked up at the moon. Only a sliver of it glowed. "Look Jack," she whispered hoarsely, feigning normalcy, "the old moon in the arms of the new one." He did not answer her or even open his eyes. "Some say that is a token of good luck."

Jack let out a derisive snort.

She laid her head back on his shoulder and looked up through her lashes at his face. Her hand crept onto his chest. "When will we go to the Fountain, Jack? It was all you could talk about before does it not matter now?"

"Only one thing matters to me now," he whispered, apparently to himself. He was silent for several long moments. Angelica closed her eyes, savoring the silence and his closeness. She would never admit it, but she always felt safer when he was around.

"I will admit the rumors I've heard are somewhat discouraging," Jack drawled, his voice thick with an unrelated emotion. "Some say it's a melting pot for all the years lived and yet to be lived; entry gives you a chance at inheriting eternal life or contributing yours to the mix for some other fortunate sod. Others say it resides in a ghost-plagued land. If you can manage to get through the restless souls of the damned, more likely than not you'll wander invisible pathways until eternity without ever reaching the Fountain. And of course there are countless modifications to the same depressing theme."

Angelica sat and looked down at him. "That's not what you told me before," she argued.

Jack waved a hand dismissively. "I've done a bit more research since then. The locals believe the Fountain is located in Bemini. Anyone fortunate enough to land on those shores is bequeathed with unaccountable wealth, prosperity, and, if he should drink from the Fountain, eternal life."

"Do you still believe in it?" Angelica asked after a moment.

"I believe the best approach is to neither believe nor doubt until the proof or disproof is laid plain before you." There was a whimsical tone to his voice that made it clear to which sway he tended.

Angelica rubbed her thumb on the back of his hand. "I believe it exists." She settled down beside him again and fell into silence, toying with a lock of hair. She glanced sideways several times and chewed thoughtfully on her lip before speaking. "Thank you, Jack."

Jack turned his head away. "We should find your bloody treasure and go," he muttered gruffly as he disentangled his fingers from hers. Stiffly, he levered himself to his feet. Once up he staggered violently and nearly dropped back to the floor.

Angelica flew to her feet and reached out to steady him. He waved her off. "Are you alright?"

Jack's hand twirled randomly in the air. He pressed his other fist against his closed eyes. "I haven't been sober in quite the longest time." Angelica looked at him quizzically.

The wave of dizziness passed. Jack lowered his hands and looked at her squarely. "I don't like it. You didn't happen to bring any rum, did you?"

Angelica waved his question away.

Jack gave an annoyed snort of a laugh. "By the way," he grumbled as he turned his back on her, "saving your life wasn't part of the job description; that'll be another ten percent."

"The division is not open for discussion Sparrow. I-what are you doing?" She watched as Jack stepped around her and slunk to the very edge of the gaping hole in the floor. He leaned out over it. "Jack " she growled in warning.

"Well the good news is: our torch is still alight. The bad news: one of us has to go down and get it."

"There is a stairway for such purposes."

"Fortunately I have the night-vision of a cat," he remarked with no little bit of pride.

"I'll wait here then," she conceded with a smirk.

"Yes you will." Jack brushed past her and disappeared down the corridor. The echoes of his footfalls faded.

Angelica jumped at a series of loud thuds, clacks, and vehement curses. "Jack?" More curses met her ears. Brow furrowed, she took a few steps down the hall but hesitated as the moonlight failed. "Jack?" she called again, louder.

His voice came from the opening in the floor as he replied. "Remind me never to do that without the fortification of rum again."

She bolted to the edge of the opening and looked down. He held the torch aloft, casting a ring of light around himself. Rubble was strewn in piles across the lower level and Jack stood precariously atop the fragments. Many of the skeletons had been disturbed or destroyed entirely. Jack kicked a long bone aside and swung in a slow circle, examining the room anew. Abruptly he looked up. "I'll be with you in a moment." Jack trotted out of sight.

Angelica sat down with a huff. She was growing tired of his incessant peculiarities and the delays he caused.

Sooner than she had dared expect he was at her side again. He handed her the torch and helped her to her feet. "Shall we?" he asked with a charming grin. Keeping one hand on her arm, he started down the promenade. They paused to toss the torch clear across the gaping hole in the floor and creep around the edges of the void. Pebbles and shards of ancient mortar crackled against the rubble below. The pair broke into a cold sweat as they inched along a narrow strip of rock. They reached the other side without incident.

Jack led the way, testing the floor at each step. Angelica chafed at the slow pace, yet she could hardly blame him for being cautious. He held out his arm to stop her and she complied with an irritated roll of the eyes. She titled her head to the side, crossed her arms and waited.

Her gaze struck something that caught her attention. Glancing at Jack, who was in the process of tapping every inch of the stone floor, she crossed the hall. The wall was crooked, a portion recessed. Had she not been looking for an inconsistency she would have missed it. Running her hands along the stone, she realized that there was a space between the recessed and main walls.

"Jack,"

"Hold your horses luv, we can't risk another collapse."

"Jack,"

"You should count yerself fortunate that I'm the one putting me neck on the line-"

"Jack,"

"After all, I should be letting you-"

"Jack!"

"What?" He spun around, irritation plain on his face. "Angelica, you know I hate it when you interrupt me " He trailed off as he realized she was nowhere to be seen. "Angelica?"

Her arm poked out from behind the wall and waved him closer. Grudgingly he complied. Jack grabbed the edge of the main wall and leaned around it, sticking his head into the narrow space. Angelica nearly blinded him with the torch and he let out an exclamation.

"Sorry," she said unapologetically. "It looks like a servant's stair." She gestured with the torch at the constricted, dreary stairway. Without waiting for any comment from Jack she started down.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, hang on a minute," Jack blubbered hastily. "Let's not be rash about this; I've exceeded my quota of falls, beastly encounters, near-death experiences, and trust for the day."

Angelica gave him a pointed look. "I'll go first and take my chances."

Jack's masculine pride bristled at the implied insult. "Like 'ell you will."

"Then get going!"

"I shall," he answered in a weaker, less certain voice. He squeezed around her and peered into the darkness for a long while.

"What are you waiting for?"

"Just," Jack flapped his hand at her, "give me a minute."

"Whatever for?"

"I'm claustrophobic."

"Close your eyes and deal with it."

Jack worked his jaw, torn. He made a strangled, frustrated sound. "Theremightbespiders," he slurred and mumbled under his breath.

"What?"

Jack swallowed tightly. "Never mind," he whispered faintly.

Angelica shot him a strange, dismissive look before pattering down the stairs. Jack slunk after her, head held low to avoid the thick curtains of cobwebs. A low-hanging web brushed his face and he jumped aside with a yelp, pawing madly at his cheek. Angelica pretended to ignore him though a twisted smile flitted across her mouth.

Their footsteps resounded in the stone passageway. Jack continued with a wary sneer locked on the cobwebs above. Angelica picked up her pace, excited to see where this path would lead. She rounded a sharp turn in the stair and vanished. Jack arrived at the divergence only to find that the staircase paused on a wide landing and descended on either side of him. He followed the glow of the torch to the left. As his foot touched the last step he froze in place and his jaw fell.

Angelica stood in the center of the room, torch aloft, gaping about at the surroundings. Jack hardly noticed her for his widened gaze was passing from one object to the next in rapid succession, gauging the value of each in turn.

He was not impressed.

Fragments of antiquated wood and rusted out frames strove in vain to contain the blocks of tarnished metal and clumps of indistinguishable mud. Jack turned to Angelica with one eyebrow lifted derisively, his eyes hooded, disinterested. "Fantastic find, luv," he drawled mockingly.

Angelica spared him a knowing smirk. "I take it you no longer want your share?"

"Of rusted out bronze and mud? I'll pass, thank you very much. May we go now?"

She did not answer; instead she paced across the room and kneeled before one of the rotted out chests. Dropping the torch, she pried one piece away from the rest and scrubbed aggressively at it with the sleeve of her coat. Slowly her efforts brought about a result: the metal lightened in color and took on a distinctive sheen, glimmering weakly in the torch light. Jack blinked, amazed. Angelica set the gold cup down and turned her attention to the clot of mud. She pulled a knife from her belt and began scraping carefully at the dried detritus. As it flaked away, facets of a finely cut stone began to catch and reflect the light; before long she had unveiled a ruby that fit snugly in the palm of her hand.

"Is it too late to change my answer?"

Angelica chuckled. Jack waited for a more committed answer but when none was forthcoming he decided to help himself. Approaching a different chest, he began to work away at the years of corrosion and elements to unearth a collection of pearls in varying sizes, gold coins and jewelry, and a spattering of precious gems. "Amazing," he acknowledged under his breath.

In all, they had four chests of plunder. Their dilemma remained, however, that the trunks were no longer serviceable; the only way to remove the treasure was by hand. To start, the pirates filled their coat pockets to bursting with handfuls of the smaller items. They shoved rings on their fingers, as many as would fit, and draped necklaces around their necks until they felt choked by the weight. Finally, they each chose as many larger items as they could carry and hefted them.

As they turned to leave the pair eyed each other warily; neither wanted to go first and leave the other alone with the treasure, no matter how briefly. "Ladies first," Jack said through a tight smile, failing to hide his mistrust.

"No, I insist, after you," she returned.

"A gentleman must insist that the lady precede him."

"Do you see any ladies here? Or gentlemen for that matter,"

"I resent that remark."

"I didn't know your feelings were so sensitive. Accept my apology and go first."

"Why thank you, I hold on a minute," Jack narrowed his eyes, "on second thought, as an acceptance of your apology, I will allow you the honor." He gave a brief, unbalanced bow.

Angelica growled in frustration. "We're not getting anywhere like this!" She stamped over to him and took his arm in hers. Jack's eyebrows shot up and he turned a mischievous grin on her.

"Angelica, darling, I know you've wanted to get close to me all night, but really-"

"Shut up Sparrow," she ground out through her teeth, resisting the urge to bludgeon him with the urn she held. "We have to leave together."

Jack grinned cheekily, apparently taking more joy in the prospect than her. They marched across the room, back to the stair. As they ascended the stairway narrowed, thrusting them tight against each other. Finally they were forced to ascend the stair sideways; Angelica turned away from Jack and felt a thrill travel up her spine as his breath brushed the back of her neck. "It's quite cozy in here. I'm so glad you thought of this," he purred in her ear. Angelica suppressed a pleasurable shudder.

When the passage widened and allowed them to pass more comfortably Angelica felt relieved. She heaved a sigh, able to breathe again. Jack's infuriating smile made her cheeks flush. Hastily she maneuvered the torch so her face was out of the light. If Jack noticed he did not comment, though she could swear she sensed his grin grow larger.

They negotiated the mazelike halls and passages of the mansion and eventually emerged into the dawn air. Already the sky was lightening, or so it appeared through the dense canopy. The pirates turned to face each other and could not help but smile at their good fortune.

"Now all that remains is to return to town, rent a miniature beast of burden and wagon, and haul the loot out," Jack commented easily.

"Why incur the expense when it would be just as easy to steal one for a day?"

"Well of course I never intended to pay for it," Jack replied somewhat testily. Angelica trotted to keep up with him as he lengthened his stride. Jack glanced at her irritably over his shoulder. "Well, what are you skipping along so nicely for? Find your own means of transporting your share."

"I'm not letting you out of my sight Sparrow; if I leave you alone for a second you will take it all and leave me in a lurch," she accused hotly.

"I'm hurt that you don't trust me,"

"Not for a second."

"Whyever not?" Angelica gave him a pointed look. "Oh. That was a different matter entirely."

Angelica jogged in front of him, stopped and spun around abruptly, her dark eyes burning. "Promise me Sparrow, swear on everything you hold dear if there is anything at all " He winced and she sensed she had cut him more deeply than she had intended but she continued anyway. " that you will not betray me. Not this time."

Jack's brow furrowed and his mouth set in a downward line. His lip twitched. "Define 'betray'."

"You know precisely what I mean."

Jack heaved an exaggerated sigh. "Very well, I swear on pain of death that we shall take equal share in this."

"Shake on it."

"My word is my bond." He refused to offer his hand. He brushed past her proffered hand and sauntered further along the path. He stopped abruptly and quirked his head to one side, listening intently. "Did you hear that?"

Angelica shrugged. The look on her face made it clear that her mind was still on the treasure and protecting herself from a double-cross. "Changing the subject will not get you off the hook Sparrow," she growled as she stalked after him. Jack held up a precautionary hand but she ignored him. "I swear, if you don't-"

Jack drew his cutlass abruptly and covered the distance between them in two strides. Grabbing her near shoulder he shoved her aside and his blade clashed with a descending sword. Angelica recovered quickly and unsheathed her weapon in time to protect Jack's back. The jungle was filled with the sounds of clashing metal as the pirates fought for their lives against the Spanish soldiers.

"How did they know where to look for us, and why?" Angelica asked frantically as she parried a blade and struck.

"How should I know?" Jack panted back sharply, dodging first one thrust and then another. He backed toward a pile of stones and clambered atop them, gaining the higher ground as three soldiers advanced on him at once.

Angelica whipped the guard of her cutlass across an opponent's skull, dropping him where he stood. Two more rushed in to take his place. "How many are there?" She cried out as a blade nicked her sword arm.

"I've got five here," Jack gasped as he deflected a series of blows with a grandiose sweep of his blade. He struggled to keep his footing atop the precarious rocks as his body moved with the fight. He kicked out, catching one of the soldiers in the chest. The man toppled backward with a shout and went limp as his head struck a rock. Jack scuttled further up the scree.

Angelica was disarmed and Jack watched as the guards took hold of her arms; she fought like a hellcat, hissing and all. The soldiers discovered the treasure weighing down her coat pockets and collected the items the pair had discarded when the fight began. In his distraction Jack slipped as he climbed upward and found himself laying dazed against the rocks, with a particularly sharp stone pressing into his back. The point of a sword was at his throat.

.

Angelica cursed under her breath as the piece of shale snapped in half. Sweat stood out prominently on her brow and her hair hung in sodden chunks. She threw the broken bits of stone against the wall and listened to them shatter. Over the course of the evening she had scurried around the entire cell, searching for anything remotely sharp by the weak moonlight that filtered in through the barred window.

The light had slowly died away, leaving the cell in a warm shadow. Angelica spat, her temper getting the best of her. With her hands still bound she pushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear and settled back against the wall. The stone was cool and she pressed her throbbing cheek against it. With her luck the cut would get infected and leave a ghastly scar, making her disguises less anonymous. _Well,_ she thought bitterly, _that is if I ever get out of here and have use for a disguise again._

She looked up at the barred window hopelessly, her brown eyes sad. Dawn was just breaking, reaching up from the horizon with pale fingers. Gray light grew stronger and stronger as the minutes passed and the features of her prison materialized like ghosts from the shadows. Angelica allowed a single tear of misery to slip down her cheek as she contemplated the fate that awaited her and Jack.

As if her thoughts had summoned him she heard the door at the end of the corridor open and the sounds of a scuffle. Her heart leapt into her throat; had he escaped? She crawled toward the front of her cell and tried to peer down the hall. The bars aligned to obstruct her view and she was forced to wait. The sight that finally met her gaze was disheartening.

Jack was balking at each step, pulling against the guards on either side of him. His hands were bound before him, his effects conspicuously absent. The skin around his right eye was dark and his sleeve was torn and bloodied. _Typical Jack,_ Angelica thought to herself nostalgically, _ever obstinate._ A third guard prodded the pirate in the back with the muzzle of his rifle. Jack shot him a dirty look over his shoulder and ground to a halt before the cell.

"Mornin' luv," Jack said to her with a nod of his head. She could not help but grin despite his grisly appearance and the situation in which they found themselves. At least they were in it together.

The guard at the rear snapped a command in Spanish and jabbed the gun into Jack's back with enough force to make the grinning brigand wince.

"Oy, can't a man 'ave 'is last words?" Jack hissed irritably.

The pair holding his arms dragged Jack forward with enough force to overcome his rebellion. Jack struggled valiantly against them, craning his neck to keep his eyes on Angelica as long as possible.

"Jack," she rasped, moving along the front of the cell hand-over-hand, desperate to keep him in her sight. The wall rose up and blocked her. "Jack!"

Moments later the door at the far end of the corridor slammed ominously shut. Angelica felt all the warmth drain from her. A sick feeling writhed in her gut and she slumped to the ground, numb. She stared vacantly across the cell.

Time passed but she took no note of it. The dawn light grew more brilliant, spilling into the cell and mocking the captive's dark mood. Angelica absently brushed at the cut on her face and realized that she was crying. Jack was gone. She was alone. The numbness abruptly gave way to a flood of passionate feelings. She brought her knees to her chest and buried her face against them, sobbing openly.

Footsteps sounded in the corridor. Angelica turned her back on the front of the cell, unable to bear watching the guards pass. She hugged her legs and rested her chin on her knees, looking despondently at the rough stone of the wall. Tears reddened her eyes as they continued to fall freely.

"That is not remotely attractive."

At first Angelica did not react. After several moments the truth sank through the layers of sadness and struck home. "Jack?" she asked disbelievingly as she lifted her head and turned around.

There he stood, body tilted back as was his custom. He swayed casually in place as if he were on the deck of a ship. He had a fresh welt on his jaw and a cut above his eyebrow but he was alive. She let her breath out in a gasp, leapt to her feet, and was at the bars in a second.

He smirked, tilting his head to one side and narrowing his eyes. His gold teeth and the trinkets in his hair glinted in the sunlight pouring through the window. The look in his eyes made Angelica remember herself and she drew back, eyeing him warily. "How did you manage to escape?"

Jack rolled his jaw. "Been chewing at those damn ropes all night. After that, three guards and a hangman were just dessert. Now then," he dropped the nonchalant fa ade and looked at her squarely. His dark, chocolaty eyes seemed to pierce right through her. "The compass, if you please." He was so near the bars that as he spoke the beads on his beard clinked quietly against the iron.

Angelica let out a breathy chuckle. "I hid it."

Jack's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Where?"

"Don't be insulting Jack. Get me out and then you will have the compass." Jack exhaled heavily, his jaw tensing. He stared, unable to decide whether to trust her. "It's a simple trade Jack. My freedom for the compass."

Jack's jaw worked for a long moment as he continued to study her. His features fell into a petulant frown. "No tricks this time."

"Don't you trust me?"

"Do you really want me to answer that?" he grumbled as he began casting about for some means of opening the lock. He scuffed his boot irritably against the cobblestones as he came up empty. Abruptly he straightened and turned away from her, index finger raised. He trotted down the corridor and vanished through the door.

"Jack," she hissed, gripping the bars. "Jack!"

"Oh shut it," he snapped back as he reappeared with a ring of keys in hand. He held the ring aloft, eyeing the keys. "Mmm," he murmured as he continued to stare at the pieces of metal, "this one looks promising." He selected one key and applied it to the lock without success. "Maybe not. Ah, but this one "

Angelica's pulse was racing. Jack's escape must soon be discovered and all the fiddling with the keys was making a great lot of noise.

"No." Jack stuck his tongue out of the corner of his mouth as he looked at the collection of keys once more. "There it is!"

"You already tried that one!" Angelica hissed. Her knuckles turned white as she gripped the bars tighter.

"No I didn't!" he objected as he selected the key and tried it. Angelica stuck her arms between the bars and grabbed at his shirt collar. Jack pulled back with a low exclamation. He recovered and chuckled. "There's a time and place for everything, luv,"

Angelica sputtered incoherently for a moment before composing herself enough to speak. "Just try that one!"

"This one?"

"No, the other one!"

"Hm?" He pointed at another key.

"Yes!"

Jack applied the key to the lock. With a loud snap it turned and the door swung open. Angelica fairly jumped out of the cell. As she regarded Jack an internal battle was raging; she could not decide whether to hug him or strangle him. He made up her mind for her by unexpectedly catching her mouth in a kiss. His hands strayed to her waist. Angelica shoved him away roughly and turned down the corridor, muttering in Spanish as she stomped along.

Bright sunlight and the sweet tang of salty air lifted their spirits even though they were not free yet. They slunk through the town, threading their way toward the docks as inconspicuously as possible. Along the way Jack secured a knife and cut the rope binding Angelica's wrists. Without exchanging a word they agreed to a truce, just until they had got away clean. Neither had forgotten about the treasure. Angelica stood watch while Jack dropped into a dinghy tied at the dock and began preparations.

Growing more uneasy by the minute, she crept closer to the small vessel. "Is it ready yet?" she whispered tensely as she looked down at him.

Jack tossed some bits of rope around before answering her. "It's a sorry little boat but it will do. Hand me that barrel, there," he gestured vaguely at the dock.

Angelica turned to do as instructed and was confronted with a whole stack of barrels. She inspected each one but could determine no difference. "Which one?" When Jack did not answer she turned back and her blood ran cold and then began to boil. "Jack!" she shouted furiously. He stood casually amidships, tinkering with the lines to the dinghy's small sail. He did not look back.

Sputtering, Angelica paced the section of the dock where the boat had been tied. With a snarl she pattered down the length of the pier, screaming at Jack in a mixture of languages. The pitch of her voice drew a few curious glances but none dared to interfere.

"Sparrow, remember your promise!" Her voice was now half-choked by tears of rage and betrayal.

"Time and tide, luv," Jack's voice answered smoothly.

Angelica stamped her foot, infuriated. The motion dropped the pocket of her coat heavily against her thigh and elicited a distinctive clink. Still angry, she shoved a hand in her pocket and drew out a handful of coins, gems, and pearls. She stared at the glittering delicacies in dumb amazement. Her eyes shot back to the retreating form of the dinghy and its occupant. Slowly, the resentment melted from her features and her eyes softened. The wind tossed her unruly black hair about. She stood on the dock, silhouetted against the sunlit town, and watched the pirate sail away. He had kept his promise after all.

More or less.


End file.
